Beans for Breakfast

I’ve mentioned him before, and apparently he’s a nice guy you get to know him. Today I saw a woman lose a scrap of paper from her armload of files and oversized mailing tubes. She started to shift her things around, so that she’d be able to reach down and grab the paper without letting lose a landslide of pages. He was standing right next to her on the corner, so he stopped what he was doing and gallantly stepped in to retrieve the page for her and slip it back into her mass of papers, somewhere approximately close to where it had fallen from. She was appreciative, gave him a smile and a thank you. The stoplight changed and he watched her cross the street and disappear behind the Old Navy building. Then he picked up where he had left off. He thrust his cardboard sign out toward the nearest car window: “Frye Apt. and Seattle Police your are Communist devil Communist you are damn liar! stop. Catholic your are Father the liar! stop. I am the son of God,” and he resumed his cyclical rant, “Hey, Seattle! Listen up.”